Las Llamas Y Ser Humano Poem by Nika McGuin
Las Llamas Y Ser Humano
night has come
and the candles are lit again
the flames dance,
to an audience of melted wax,
their gypsy flamenco
and in the night, illuminate
las llamas, sí
thus they are called in Spanish
I could watch them forever...
yonder, dancing on alone
a solitary flame draws me in
like a lonely moth, be it perhaps
because I too have danced thusly
for many a year
my twin fated flame
you spend your short life, dancing
flitting, fluttering, and knowing all along
that you could be extinguished
by the slightest puff of air
ay llamita, we are all too similar
you and I
Llama = flame
Llamita = little flame (endearment)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 4:01:13 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Tu sabes las secretas galerias del alma... Ali teaqardan las hadas silenoisas de la vidas, y hacia ca jardin deeterna I could't resist this quotation to do Spainsh! PH underlined everything with red as if I had mispelled a bunch of words. Go figure! This is Antonio Machado in a volume translated by the great poet and translator of poetry ROBERT BLY a fellow Minnesotan. I saw him on Monday night at a reading - He's 89, frail but still witty and committed. He laughed when I said to him, If it weren't for your translations and poems I'd still be in the Dead Poets Society, probably moribund myself! No, he said. If you write your poems, you are a living man. WOW! Thanks, Robert! (Everybody calls him Robert.) Robert Bly's translations opened up the world for me, I am a cosmopolitan because of him. I'll cry everyday the day after he dies, but they will be cries of hope and gratitude... Here's his translation: You know the secret passageways of the soul... The good and silent spirits of life are waiting for you, and one day they will carry you to a garden of eternal spring. (Challenge: Instead of the next violent slasher Horror Movie or Superhero Stunt, why doesn't someone film those spirits and that garden? Are they afraid of silence? or of souls? or of a garden that never wilts?) But you, Poet of New Life, Nika, have no false fear of the moth who is the soul or the flame which is death or their coming together which is immortality!